To Bob Ross with Love

Now who you know leave the scene

Messier than canvas's by Jackson Pollock

Throwing multicolored thoughts at a rapid pace

I make a mess you dissect it and make sense of it

Then get back to me at your earliest convenience

Check my verbal sequence as I texturize these tracks

Seven layers to be exact eliminate the whack

With a firm brush stroke I mc paintily

Lyricists begin crumbling from my scumbling technique

As I tweak your audio and visual keep my drips minimal messages subliminal

Cause me and rap go way back we compliment

So together we enhance one another that's common sense

High intensity catches the eye your jaw drops

Be a real critic not explicit with false props

I keep my darks deep my lights bright I'm very thorough

With my churascurro inspiration spark and a knife

Now watch me rock the spot like Basquiat minus the heroin

And make my face popular like Andy did to Marilyn

Its kinda scary when real art gets left behind

While they take bullshit and start selling it to blind folks

But I remain humble as long as Grace continues spinning hot shit

On his twin twelve-hundred color wheels of steel

Fuck mass appeal art is art only the real can truly feel it

So open your eyes and listen

Combine your ears with vision

Or do it cause you love it

Or for cash that's your decision

That's your decision

That's your decision

It's like I'm torn between two worlds

A paintbrush and a microphone

A canvas or a beat

CD or LP

Anything goes when my ink pen flows

And God only knows where its gonna bring me next

So I'm inclined to like paint rhymes and spit kaleidoscopes with one eye closed

And I suppose if you chose the path that I chose

You know the cycle ass ho don't front

It goes inspiration and productivity then a sense of self worth and in steps depression

Like back and forth and forth and back

Should I paint a picture or record a track

A gift or a curse I don't know I'm still undecided

But over the years I've found clever ways to hide it

And those that lack the passion I have may despise it

But my momma made me this way I thank her everyday

So tell them kids to keep coloring outside the lines

Until they lose they limitations and they minds is free

Tell them teachers that you want your money back this time

And tell Bob Ross for all the happy little trees

And tell my momma that her baby boy is doing just fine

Although hes running out of patience but his mind is free

And tell my pops that I'll pay his money back sometime

And that his son is two steps away from where he needs to be